


After the Chaos

by dark_side_of_the_moon



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M, McHart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 13:00:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12109242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_side_of_the_moon/pseuds/dark_side_of_the_moon
Summary: Takes place after the last McHart scene of Series 1 of The Good Fight where they walk into his house hand in hand.  At the time of writing Series 2 hasn't even been filmed yet so it's unlikely to fit with the 'real' time line once Series 2 is aired.  I might re-work it then.





	1. Chapter 1

He opened the front door and led her through into the lounge. She stood, unsure what to do or say, still holding his hand. He smiled at her and pulled her to him. She smiled back and leant in to kiss him.  
“Can I get you a drink?” He asked.  
“You light the fire, I get the drinks. What would you like?  
“Scotch – just bring the bottle through, it’s been long day”  
“You can have one.” He frowned at her. “Don’t give me that look. You’ve had surgery, you’ve got painkillers and antibiotics to take and you haven’t eaten.” She smoothed his hair and kissed him again. “I’ll make you something”. He watched her walk into the kitchen and heard cupboards opening and closing, the fridge opening and closing, the freezer opening and closing.   
She walked back in holding a bottle of scotch and two glasses and leaned on the door frame. “There’s no food in this house”. He looked up from the fire and shrugged.   
“It was on the list. We can get take out. What would you like?” She shrugged. She wasn’t even hungry anymore having passed the point hours ago.   
“You choose, you’re the hero” she smiled as he scowled at her.   
“Pizza then.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit speed dial. “10 minutes” he said, hanging up. She poured a drink and handed him the glass as he settled down next to her on the sofa. She curled into him as he wrapped his arm around her. They were still in their coats, waiting for the room to warm, waiting for pizza, drinking quietly. He eyed the bottle of scotch and wondered what his chances were of another glass when the doorbell rang. He quickly topped up their glasses while she answered the door.   
“I saw that” she called over her shoulder. He smiled.   
“I’m the hero, remember. I get all the scotch I want”. She came back in with the pizza and smiled at him.   
“Just make sure you eat this first. I don’t want to have to drive you back to the hospital.” She opened the box and handed him a napkin and a slice. They perched on the edge of the sofa, eating quietly, drinking, watching the fire take hold. They took of their coats, poured more scotch and curled up again. He was pleased to see that from this angle, he could look straight down the inside of her dress. She looked up and saw him smiling. “What?” He leant forward and kissed the tip of her nose. She laughed and pulled herself up, turning into him and tucking her feet under her so her face was level with his, her mouth level with his. She hesitated, as she seemed to do around him nowadays, before pushing the unspoken question away and kissing him. He heard it every time she never asked it – Can I trust you or will you hurt me again? – And he was grateful she continued regardless. His answers were ‘yes’ to the first half and ‘never’ to the second. But he knew better than to say it – his words were empty to her. His actions were what counted. And she was here again, and that was all that mattered. He kissed her softly, savouring the taste of her, the pizza, the scotch. He remembered the stricken look on her face at the hospital, holding back the tears. She broke the kiss and set their glasses down on the table before returning to him. He ran his hands down the sides of her body to rest on her hips and pulled her towards him. She hesitated.  
“We should probably go to bed.” She said softly, standing up and holding out her hand to him. He took it – knowing it was true. He needed sleep, but he wanted sex, wanted her. God, he hurt like hell, could feel the pain and fatigue setting in, wincing with every step as they slowly made their way upstairs.   
“God I’m getting old.” He grumbled.   
“Yes, but you were dragged by a moving car, so I think that might have a bit more to do with it.” She kissed the top of his head as he sat on the side of the bed and struggled to reach his shoes. She knelt in front of him and pulled his shoes and socks off.  
“This wasn’t quite the evening I had in mind.” He laughed. She nodded and looked away and he realised she was crying. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He reached out, stroked her cheek. She shook her head, took a deep breath and wiped away the tears.  
“You could have died.” She said miserably. “I’d tell you to promise me that you wouldn’t do it again but I know you’d be lying.” He nodded. That much was true. She leant forward and wrapped her arms around him, felt him wince. “Sorry” she whispered and dropped her hands to his hips, her cheek resting against his.  
“It’s OK.” He wrapped his arms gently around her and pulled her closer. He could feel her shaky breathing and he knew she was still crying. He kissed her cheek and held her. Patience was, he felt, was his only real virtue. It was what made him a top marksman, one of the top experts in his field – he was diligent and focussed, yes, but he was patient. He would channel that now into being a better husband. Each time they had met, or spoken, or touched since his speech to the Police Union, he’d felt her move closer, hesitate, and step back again. But the steps back were getting smaller, the hesitations shorter and her mistrust didn’t feel quite so deep. He would give her all the time she needed, all the anything really. He held her, stroking her back softly until her breathing slowed to normal and she pulled back slightly.  
“God, I’m sorry.” She looked at her watch. “We really should get some sleep.”   
“In a minute.” He kissed her softly, waited for her to respond. When she did, he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. She opened her mouth to his and pressed herself against him, feeling him stiffen. They really should sleep, she knew, they were both exhausted. But she also knew she didn’t want to waste anymore of the time she could have been sharing with him. She had almost lost him – and then there would have been nothing, just his absence. Always. She could feel the sadness and tears again but pushed them away. She reached for his belt and slowly unbuckled it. She felt him smile and slide his hand up her back and slowly tug the zipper of her dress all the way down. She unbuttoned his jeans and untucked his shirt and t-shirt, slipping her hands underneath and stroking his stomach, his abdomen, her finger tips tracing the skin just above the elastic waist band of his shorts. He tugged her dress off her shoulders and she slid her arms out of it, letting it slide down her body to her knees. She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders gently, then carefully eased his t-shirt over his head. She looked down at his body and in the half-light his bruises didn’t look too bad, the dressing on his shoulder not as big as she expected. He pulled her close again and buried his face in her neck. She carefully stroked his back, checking for injuries. She wasn’t sure if he was wincing in pain or shivering with lust.  
“Just tell me if I hurt you, ok?” She whispered.   
“Ok” he mumbled against her.  
“You won’t, will you?”  
“Probably not. I’m very manly like that.” She smiled as his hands gently explored her body. He slipped the bra straps from her shoulders, skimmed over the soft mounds of her breasts before cupping them, stroking her nipples through the soft satin with his thumbs. She sighed and tilted her head back, giving him better access to her neck.  
She tugged the waist band of his jeans and shorts as low as they’d go.   
“You need to lift your hips”.  
“What?”  
“So I can get your pants off.”  
“Stand up first.” He whispered.  
“Why?”  
“So I can get your panties off.” She smiled and stood slowly as his hands and lips drifted down her body, hooking his fingers over the soft satin and gently sliding them down her long, elegant legs. He slid his hands back up, one hand squeezing her ass, the other skimming up her inner thigh to stroke her centre while his lips kissed her abdomen, drawing tiny circles with his tongue. She sighed at the contact, widening her stance and rocking against his fingers.  
“Lay back”  
“Why?” Stroke. Kiss. Lick.  
“So I can get your pants off” she said, exasperated.  
“Oh.” Stroke. Kiss. Lick. He didn’t move.  
“Kurt, I….” he slipped two fingers inside her and used his thumb to massage the length of her clitoris.  
“You were saying?” He smiled. Stroke. Kiss. Lick.   
“I…..” she closed her eyes and rocked against his hand. God, it felt so good. “I really……think…..” she tried again, abandoning the thought as the pleasure of her first orgasm rippled through her and she moaned softly. She stilled his hand as it subsided, leaning forward and pushing him back onto the bed, kneeling over him, her knees either side of his hips. “Lift.” She insisted.   
He smiled, started stroking her again but lifted his hips and she pushed his jeans and shorts to his knees and used her foot to push them down and away. She took his hand from her ass and placed it above his head, lacing her fingers through his but keeping her weight on her knees. Reluctantly, she moved his hand from her centre and did the same again, resting her sex on his, rubbing herself slowly up and down him, coating him with her wetness as his erection pushed against her. He felt a twinge in his shoulder and winced, tried to hide it, not wanting to break the spell. But she noticed and released his hands, resting hers on either side of his head, keeping the same momentum. He cupped her breasts again, this time focussing on the front-fastening clasp of her bra, gently releasing it and letting her breasts spill out into his hands. He stroked her nipples, enjoying their hardness, feeling her move faster against him. She’d closed her eyes, lost in the pleasure, before slipping him inside her in one smooth movement, squeezing him tight. He was breathing faster, so she knew he was close. They came together moments later, riding the waves of pleasure until they were sated. She gently eased herself off him and lay beside him on the bed, resting her arm across his stomach.  
“Are you ok?”  
“Oh yeah.” It was only a small lie – he hurt like hell but his body was floating in the afterglow and he wasn’t about to break the mood.   
“We really do need to get some sleep” she said, kissing him. They snuggled under the duvet and he felt himself drifting in and out of sleep as she lay on her side next to him, their fingers interlaced and resting on his abdomen, spooning sadly out if the question.  
“This isn’t too uncomfortable, is it?”  
“It’s fine” Nothing was going to be comfortable and he was beyond exhausted now, he was just glad she was there. She buried her face in his neck and kissed him, felt him shiver. He looked at her in the dark, unable to see her face clearly. “Are you….feeling better?” He ventured.   
“Yes.” She mumbled, into his shoulder. “You?”  
“Tonnes. Provided I don’t actually move.” He felt her smile as she whispered.  
“I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”


	2. When we're really, really old

She woke up and squinted at the clock.  
“What time is it?” He asked.  
“Around 4” she said. “Can’t sleep?”  
“No.” He said grumpily. “I feel worse. Being a hero sucks.” She smiled and kissed his cheek.   
“Would anything make you feel better?” She nuzzled his cheek and he turned his head to face her.  
“Maybe.” He kissed her, trying not to wince at the movement. She kissed him back, shifting her position so she leant over him, her elbows either side of him. With his right arm stuck under her, he stroked her thigh, all he could really reach. He ran his left hand down her side, cupped her as and squeezed. They kissed each other slowly, taking their time. She shifted her weight and freed his right hand, which came to rest on her ass with his left.  
“How are we going to do this?” she whispered as she shifted again “Would you be better sitting up or laying down?”  
“Decisions, decisions….” He mumbled against her. He thought about it for a moment. “Sitting up, I think.”  
“OK” She helped him up as he winced and propped cushions behind him. “Do you think this is what it will be like when we’re really, really old?” He laughed and stroked her hair, pulling her gently to him for another kiss. “Are you OK there?” she asked, rubbing her cheek against his.  
“Yep, let’s do this. Practice for our old age.”  
“Tell me if it hurts” she said, knowing he wouldn’t. She gently straddled him, careful not to catch his bruises or the stitches. She could feel his erection pressing against her and she rocked her hips automatically, rubbing herself against him as she leant forward to kiss him. It felt good, the friction of him against her, one hand squeezing her ass, the other slowly easing its way up her body to cup her breast. His lips were on her neck, working their way slowly down her body as she leant back to allow him better access, lifting herself slightly until her breasts reached his mouth. He greedily seized one between his lips, squeezing the other gently, causing her to gasp. He slipped this free hand between her legs and felt her shiver as he began to stroke her clitoris. She closed her eyes and rocked herself against his thumb, feeling the pleasure building. She knelt a bit higher, creating space between them so she could slip her hand between them and felt him smile against her breast as she wrapped her fingers gently around him and began to slide her hand up and down his thick shaft. “Are you ok?”  
“Oh yeah” he mumbled against her. She smiled and kissed the top of his head, let herself relax into the pleasure of his hands, his mouth, her hand. She could feel his breathing coming faster and gradually eased herself down onto him, widening her knees to take him as deeply as possible, rocking against him. He gripped her hips and matched her movements, the pleasure building for both of them, eclipsing his aches and pains. They moved faster against each other, so close now. He brushed his thumb over her clitoris one last time and felt her come, squeezing him tighter, pulling him over the edge with her, rocking against him to prolong the pleasure as long as possible. She rested her chin on his shoulder, breathing hard.  
“I think we’re gonna be fine, when we’re really, really old” he said breathlessly into her shoulder. She laughed.  
“I think so too. Just don’t make a habit of getting injured.”  
“I promise.”


End file.
